


if it makes you feel

by snsk



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Feminization, M/M, Porn Without Plot, cross dressing, it's canon compliant no joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 00:19:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snsk/pseuds/snsk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>louis looked up at harry. his eyes were very, very dark, but focused, and harry was again reminded of how much the tommo didn't like losing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if it makes you feel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fanficloverme96](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fanficloverme96/gifts), [harlequinnd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequinnd/gifts).



niall was holding harry's hand steady under the golden light of the lamp.

"you're not doing it properly," harry pouted. "you're getting polish on the skin, i can feel it! let zayn do it."

"nah, i wanna," niall insisted, tongue poking out, all focused. he dipped the brush back into the red bottle, started working on harry's thumb. "almost done, anyway."

harry scrunched up his nose suspiciously. zayn peered over at harry's hand. "it's not bad, haz."

"see," niall said, finishing with a flourish. he almost upset the bottle.

harry looked at his fingers. each nail was painted bright red, scarlet red, all glossy with lacquer. the red matched the colour of the bra he had on under the white shirt, and also the panties he was wearing under the jeans. 

it was beautiful.

"thanks, niall," he said, grinning up at him.

"no big deal," niall shrugged, looking at his own hand like he was thinking of trying it himself.

"what d'you think?" harry said, wiggling his fingers at liam and zayn.

"very nice," liam agreed, and zayn nodded. "pretty," he said. 

harry thought so, too. he shifted on the couch, biting his lip.

liam and niall and zayn exchanged glances. "we're making ourselves scarce," zayn said, "very very soon."

they didn't know about the lace itching at the skin of harry's hips, but they knew enough about the way harry looked at the clock, glanced towards the door, that louis would be home any minute. harry felt like crawling out of his skin with impatience; he wanted his boy back now.

"you don't have to--" he said distractedly, the final vestiges of his manners making an appearance even as  the clasp of the bra dug into his back where he leaned against the cushions. he'd put it on too tight, maybe. his jeans were getting uncomfortable already, probably. he couldn't focus on anything anymore. there was conversation, low and buzzing, but not as insistent as the way the lace felt against his dick.

the sound of the door opening made them all jump a bit; they hadn't heard the car pull up over The Weeknd. "harry?" louis called, and there was the sound of keys clattering onto a table. "harry, practice ran a little late, i-- hey, you lot."

louis came into the living room, with his jersey still mud-splattered and his hair still damp with sweat, like he'd drove straight home instead of taking a shower there. his skin was glistening in the soft lamp light and his boots were trailing grass inside the house and oh, this was what harry had wanted, had waited for all day. 

he turned on the sofa, on his knees to face louis, and stretched out a hand, like, come here. and also mostly to show off his freshly painted red red nails. 

louis came, kicking off his boots, easy. he took harry's hand in both of his, his skin still cool from the brisk december wind. he looked at harry's fingernails, held them up for inspection, and smiled, low and for harry, only, and said, "who did this for you, then?"

"niall," said harry, "do you-- do you like them, lou?"

"of course i do, baby," said louis, "so pretty, they're so pretty."

harry preened. vaguely, he registered liam--? or somebody? saying, "very definitely leaving, don't be late tomorrow." 

harry didn't remember what tomorrow was. louis didn't spare them a glance, still staring at harry. the air felt charged, like it did a lot, when it was nights like these, louis, harry, skin, games, want.

"i have a," said harry, when the door closed, "sort of surprise."

louis raised his eyebrows. harry lifted the hands that were holding his and kissed them, soft, then let go. he stepped back onto the carpet, and lifted his shirt over his head.

he avoided looking at louis for a bit, not until he'd dropped his jeans. air felt wonderfully freeing on his stomach, his thighs. he looked up, finally. louis lifted his gaze, too, let it slide achingly slow over harry's skin, and they looked at each other again, a hardly-moving dance.

harry said, "are you hungry? there's pizza in the microwave, i warmed it up a while ago."

louis tilted his head, smiling slowly. "okay," he said, and harry walked into the kitchen, knowing he was following close behind.

harry bent over the microwave, and got out louis' pizza. it had pepperoni, and pineapple. louis' favourite. he caught sight of himself in the reflective black of the microwave door, and grinned, involuntary.

he had on a red lacy bra, tightened to fit, and a matching red thong, low over his hips. he'd put on the slightest bit of blush, earlier, and some lipstick, his eyes were ringed with the mascara he'd made zayn apply. his nails were scarlet on the door of the microwave. but. oh. he needed heels, that was it, but then he caught sight of louis standing behind him, just staring, staring, staring, and maybe he didn't need them, not tonight.

he straightened up, and slid louis' slice of pizza onto a plate. louis shook his head, like he was coming out of water, and sat down at the table, almost dazedly. 

"here, lou," harry said, quiet. "you've had a long day, you should eat."

louis looked up at harry. his eyes were very, very dark, but focused, and harry was again reminded of how much the tommo didn't like losing. "thank you, love," he said, polite, brushing a thumb over harry's wrist as harry placed the plate in front of him.

then he just-- chewed serenely, and asked, "were the boys here long, then?"

harry settled into the seat opposite his. the wood was cold on the back of his thighs, except where the lace covered it, which wasn't much; it felt good. "couple of hours," he said. "we watched ender's game."

"any good?" asked louis.

"very," said harry. "i'll watch it with you sometime."

"no thanks," louis laughed, "it's terrible watching stuff together you've already seen, you give it all away."

harry pouted. "do not."

"do too," louis insisted, "remember catching fire?"

"i thought you'd already read the book!"

louis rolled his eyes. "you liar," he said, affectionately. it was a game they were playing, and harry could tell he loved it.  he munched up the rest of his crust. "that was delicious."

"pepperoni and pineapple," harry shrugged, and louis bent down to kiss the top of harry's head as he brought the plate to the dishwasher. 

"i know, love," louis said. "thank you."

he washed his dish, something he never did, and said, "going to take a shower, alright, baby? smell rank. be right out."

harry'd thought louis would crack first. harry didn't want louis to take a shower. he wanted him in his sweat-drenched jersey, crouched over him, fierce, scent all musk, all grass, all louis.

harry didn't want to play the game if the outcome didn't equal to that. it was why louis always won, and that was okay.

so he got up, and pressed himself all along louis' back, shameless. he curled one arm around louis' waist, and with the other reached his fingers into louis' hair, dipped his head back to see how the red looked against the strands. it looked beautiful. harry kind of wanted to instagram this picture on, like, madison square. 

"mm," louis sighed, as harry kneaded. "that feels good."

"you win," harry murmured into the side of louis' neck, craning his head to whisper into it, just to make louis shudder deliciously. "you win, lou, you always-- don't shower, just fuck me here, here, here now. please."

he punctuated himself with kisses, up along louis' jaw, until louis sighed, sounding put upon, and said, "you ask very nicely, love," and shifted his arse a bit, as if just to remind harry there was only a layer of cotton, a thinner layer of lace, separating them. then he turned in harry's hold and stared up at him. kissed him finally, rough. said, "so pretty."

harry smiled. he might have blushed a bit. "you think so, lou?"

"'course, princess. look at you. all made up for me. wearing your lovely grown up clothes. so pretty. all for me."

he dipped his thumb into the cup of harry's bra, over his nipple, too gentle, not enough. harry made a sound almost like a whine.

"shh, princess," louis soothed. "get on the table, hey?"

harry scrambled back, climbing the thankfully empty dining table, thanking whatever deity there was that they'd thought to buy a nice big wooden one, long and smooth and then harry was on his back and louis was crouching over harry.

 and they were kissing, messy and sloppy and beautiful, and louis had one hand between them running his knuckles over the lace of harry's panties, and harry wanted more, so much more, so he moved his hips up, shameless.

louis smiled against harry's mouth. "styles," he said, mock-scandalized-- it was still a game with him, always a game, "patience is a virtue."

he smelled of exertion and want, his body compact and warm over harry's, and harry wasn't exactly sure how anyone was supposed to have patience in this kind of situation. angels would break.

but he stilled his hips, otherwise louis would give him nothing. that was how it went.

louis sounded a low note of approval. "good girl," he said, fondly. "i'm gonna take care of you, princess."

harry nodded wildly. louis kissed him on the corner of his mouth, rewarding. he dug a few fingers into harry's side, a silent order, and harry arched himself up a bit, into a curve. louis slipped his hand against harry's back and started toying with the clasp of the bra.

harry had heard before, from female friends, from tv shows, that men were notoriously bad at this, at undoing bras. harry was fully prepared to help louis out, was even reaching behind, arm bent awkwardly, but louis didn't fumble. harry felt the strap come loose within seconds, and-- wow. oh, god. that was ridiculously, incredibly hot.

he sent silent condolences to womankind that louis had turned out gay, gay and his.

above him, louis was smirking, knowing exactly what he was doing, and being perfectly smug about it. he slid his hands over harry's stomach, lifting the bra over harry's arms, touch lingering. then he bent down to swipe his tongue over harry's nipples, almost as if in greeting. he got his teeth around harry's right one and pulled, just a bit, and harry gasped. louis' grazes were light. he was still teasing.

he made sure he wasn't touching anywhere below harry's waist, either, so harry was desperate even as louis started on his left nipple, frustrated at the lack of friction where he needed it most, going crazy at the points of contact; the feeling of louis' jersey lightly brushing his skin, the lazy nibbling that never seemed to actually delve into something deeper.

"lou, louis," he said. his voice sounded wrecked already. 

louis lifted his head questioningly. "yes, princess?" 

louis was making sure he begged for it. harry didn't have a problem with that.

"please, louis, please, i need more. inside, please, i'll do anything. i want you, want you inside. only you. i can't stand it, been waiting for you all day, lou-- louis, oh--!," as louis gave a rough lick to where harry was tucked snugly inside the tight lace. 

"you need me to fill you up, baby?" louis asked again, taking the elastic of the panties in between his teeth.

"i'll die if you don't," and harry wasn't even exaggerating, not when louis was glancing up at him, red lace between his teeth, hands already around harry's arse. 

he started to pull the panties down with his mouth, using his hands to help him around the back, and harry was about done, right there, it looked so, it was so. louis got the garment midway down harry's thighs before he stopped, and like he couldn't take it anymore, bent to kiss at harry's hole. he licked at it, sweet and kitten-soft. then he looked up.

"you're all open for me, love," he said. "dripping."

"yeah, i--" harry couldn't understand why louis wasn't inside him already, he was starting to have trouble with words. "i sneaked into the bathroom, half hour ago. got myself ready for you."

"priiiincess," louis said, smiling and letting his tongue circle harry's rim again, once. "how naughty. they were all just downstairs. did you get off on that? that they could hear you if they walked a few steps?"

"didn't get off," harry got out, using all his willpower to stop from pushing back into louis' face. if that happened, louis wouldn't let him come all night. it had happened before. "was waiting for you."

that seemed to do it, anyway-- louis inhaled a short breath, biting his lip as he stared at harry, then moved for a bit to hike his shorts off.

he didn't take his shirt off. it was kind of amazing, how alike they thought. 

"you ready, love," he said, sounding almost like it wasn't a question, and harry nodded again. "louis," was all he managed, before louis braced himself above harry, aligning their bodies, and pushed in all the way, one simple, decisive stroke. 

harry sort of lost his mind.

"louis, louis," he babbled desperately, scrabbling at louis' shoulders. it felt, it felt like the first time, always, the way louis filled him up, the way his body accommodated him.

"you okay, baby?" louis asked. he was above him and inside him, his jersey brushing the skin of harry's stomach.

"move, please," harry begged, and louis did, he moved, sure and intent, like he could read harry's mind, knew how harry wanted it tonight, wanted it to almost hurt with louis' claim and ache for days. 

"yeah, princess, my beautiful girl," louis panted out, and he hit that spot exactly right, right there, and harry, maybe, sort of, yeah. screamed.

it was nerve endings on fire, and nothing else but louis all around, and it was always this good but it was so stupidly good this time, louis wringing out from him incoherent sounds as he moved, thrusts getting erratic, and harry was so close, reached up and pulled weakly at louis' hair.

louis understood, leaned down to kiss him, messy, and harry came all over his stomach and the front of louis' jersey.

"harry, you feel--" louis groaned, and harry stroked an exhausted hand over his face, wondering, gentle, still marveling at the red gloss over louis' skin, and said, "c'mon, lou, come inside me, i'm all yours, your little princess," and louis did, abruptly, burying his head in harry's neck.

afterwards, harry said: "we might have to buy a new table."

"or," louis said, still slumped over harry, heavy, but harry didn't feel any inclination of getting him to roll off, not yet, "we could invite the guys over tomorrow morning for breakfast and watch them eat where we came."

"lou," harry said reproachfully, which meant, we're probably going to.

louis lifted up harry's hand to kiss at his fingers. "beautiful," he said, again, and he might have been trying for teasing but it came out-- quiet. honest.

they were definitely going to.

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday t lousi n me. big up to sheb my femme harr enabler. and melanie for twitter account boysinlace.


End file.
